


The Witching Hour

by orphan_account



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internal Conflict, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The lights shifted, they seemed alive. Wirt sighed loudly, softly, exasperated.It was late.It was very late.The moon was full.Whispers in a familiar voice echoed in his head, keeping him awake at this ungodly hour. The brunet rolled around, continuing in a cycle of kicking the blanket off and pulling it back up.He'd be here soon.





	

  Wirt was not a stranger to dread nor was he adverse when it came to struggling with anxiety. The young man usually, albeit secretly, prided himself in those small victories. He had come a long way from the ignorant boy head been when he fell over the garden wall two years ago. 

  Most of the time.

  It was no surprise when sudden insomnia flared up, it had been almost as regular as breathing since Halloween two years ago. Although, he had always suffered from insomnia, it wasn't that bad until then. He overheard the doctors telling his mom and step forge that it might be PTSD.

   Did he have PTSD? He didn't think so. Greg didn't have it, so why should he have gotten it? Greg was younger an if it was going to hurt anyone it should have been the young boy. It would have made sense, because e was younger and should have been more sensitive to these kinds of things.

  Not him.

  Rubbing at his eyes, Wirt realized he would be fine with any baggage that came from his time in the Unknown. Better him than sweet little Greg, who still saw the world through rose colored lenses.

  Unlike his older brother, Greg never once stayed up late at night or awoke in a daze, covered in sweat from a nightmare that relived time in Unknown. He did dream about it however. He loved dreaming of seeing Beatrice and the frogs again. He'd excitedly babble to Wirt that the school started teaching music class. Greg would even dream about the Beast.

  Not like Wirt did.

  No, Greg rarely ever dreamt of the Beast but when he did he'd talk of the fun he had holding the sun in a cup.

  When Wirt dreamt of the Beast he dreamt of he haunting sound if his voice. How he sang and the sound carried through the trees and the trees with faces seemed to cower and cry. He dreamt of the Beast, chasing him and Greg on their journey home. 

  He often thought and dreamt about what his reality would be like had he accepted the Beast's offer to bear the lantern. 

  Like the flip of a switch the atmosphere in the room changes. With a slow glance to he electric alarm clock on his nightstand.

   _3:00. The witching hour, of course._

Wirt had become a lot more sensitive to the paranormal since his return from the Unknown. He leaned that the scratching on his door and window should not be messed with or investigated. He learned a lot over the two years. The bed was safest this time of night, lights would make some of them angry, responding was an invitation for them to do more.

  Also, don't look outside.

  Yellow, blue, pink.

  The Beast tapped on his window. Wirt covered his head with his pillow, drawing the blankets closer to his trembling body.

  _**"Pilgrim. Why do you cower? You invited me here after all."**_

  Wirt shook his head. "I-I'd never…"

  A thin, cold hand raked through his hair, the pillow discarded. _**"Not all who wonder are lost, dear Pilgrim. You chose this path and while lost to the world, you are not lost in spirit."**_  

  Wirt leaned away from the Beast. Standing up, he took his medication and stuffed it in his drawer. "I haven't done anything yet!"

  The Beast let out a loud laugh, that surprisingly, yet expectedly, didn't disturb the rest of the house.  _ **"Are you so sure?"**_

No, he wasn't. 

   _ **"Come young traveler. You have a new journey ahead of you."**_

 

* * *

  "Wirt! Breakfast is ready!" From the kitchen, his mother called. Greg was already at the table singing about pancakes while his father read the paper. Greg's pet frog croaked from his set in Greg's lap.

  A minute passed, the food was served. 

  Another and still no Wirt.

  "Wirt?" She called out unsure. Her husband glanced up from his reading. 

  Their eyes met and a sudden stab of dread attacked her. Placing the pancakes and dressings down, she rubbed her hands on her apron before climbing the stairs to her eldest child's room. Knocking in the door softly once she got there, she opened the door. "Wirt? You still sleeping buddy?"

  The mound of blankets was empty. His pillow was on the floor. 

  She started to panic. Quietly shutting the door, she called out again. "Wirt!"

  The sound of the shower stopping caught her attention and not a second later, Wirt poked his head out of the bathroom door with wide concerned eyes. "Everything alright mom?"

  She let out a huff of breath she hadn't realized she held. "Yeah, breakfast is ready. You didn't respond."

  "Oh," his eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you over my music and the shower."

  "It's alright." Her gave him a kiss on his forehead. "Just hurry down."

  Throughout the day his mother felt a small amount of dread. She kept an eye on Wirt.

  When it was time for bed again, she took Wirt by the wrist and stopped him from going up to his room. He had been acting odd all day.

  He looked back, and slightly down at her. His dark brown eyes looked soulful, hardly illuminated by light peaking into the hall from the living room. 

  "Mom?"

  "You'll come to me if you have a problem, right?"

  Wirt nodded, but didn't smile.

  Hesitantly she let him go.

 

* * *

 

  It was 3:00am again. 

   _ **"Are you ready, Pilgrim?"**_

He stared at the pills in his hand. 

  

* * *

  "Greg could you go wake up Wirt? He's gonna be late for school."

  "But mom! It's Halloween. It's a holiday, we should stay home." Greg pouted as he rubbed at his eyes to wake up. 

  "It's a normal Monday morning Greg. Now go get your brother." She insisted. 

  Greg sighed, but was soon smiling as he bounded up the stairs. "Wirt! Brother of mine, time to get up and taste the potatoes and molasses!"

  His gleeful shouts could be heard in the kitchen. She chuckled at the young boy's antics. 

  "Mom! Wirt doesn't want to wake up!"

  "Hang on, I'm coming I'm coming!" She giggled as she went to investigate. That feeling of dread from the other day came back full swing when she saw Wirt. 

  "Gregory get your father."

  She went over and started to shake her older son. He was cold and pale, his hand coiled tightly around something. "Wirt? Wirt!"

  "What happened?" Her husband asked from the door, keeping Greg from getting any closer. 

  "I don't know! He's not breathing, call the paramedics!"

 

* * *

  "Has anyone seen Wirt?" Mrs. Hughes asked with a frown. It was unlike the teen to miss even a second of class.

  "I can call him?" Sara supplied. 

  The teacher just nodded at her, as she stepped into the hall. She dialed him up and waited patiently.

  Ordinarily Wirt picked up on the second ring. Today he didn't. 

  He didn't pick up at all. His mother did. "Hello?"

 "Mrs. Wong, hello! The class and I were wondering where Wirt is?"

  The line was silent for a moment. "Sara… Wirt is getting his stomach pumped."

  "Oh." Sara's head was muddied with thoughts and blame. "How is he-uh-fairing?"

  "Not well."

  "I see. Well, I should get back to class, text me if there's an update." She returned to class grimly. 

  "I don't think he's going to be in school for a while."

  She wasn't wrong. In fact, Wirt never came back.


End file.
